


friendsgiving

by forpeaches (bluecarrot)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Friendship, Holidays, No Plot/Plotless, Party, Silly, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, frienemies, holidays are hell, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21597523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecarrot/pseuds/forpeaches
Summary: Friendsgiving in Westeros.Sansa uses an old nickname; Margaery drinks too much; Brienne finds she is capable of lying under duress.
Relationships: Brienne of Tarth & Margaery Tyrell, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 7
Kudos: 137





	friendsgiving

**Author's Note:**

> happy Thanksgiving, y’all.

“What about you, Bri-bri? Anyone new in your life?”

“No.” She tried to look around Sansa, as if she’d seen someone. The party was crowded and noisy; anyone could have been there. “Excuse me.”

“That is such a shame. _Such_ a shame. You are such a nice girl.”

“Thank you. Sansa, I need to ... um.” Her mind went blank. Why couldn’t she ever come up with a lie on demand? Jaime always said that she needed to practice lying, Brienne said she was a terrible liar, Jaime said that’s why she needed to practice, Brienne said ...

“Remember those guys in high school? What were their names?”

“I don’t remember,” she said. “Oh look, there’s _Margaery_. Let’s talk to Marg—“

“Connington. Wasn’t one of them named Hyle Connington?”

Sansa had always been somewhat glassy-eyed, but the rudeness was new. Maybe it only happened when she was drunk. “Hyle Hunt. Red Connington. Hello, Margaery, you look beautiful.”

Margaery leaned in for a hug, her chin just hitting Brienne’s shoulder. “You are a vision of grace.”

“Isn’t she looking nice recently?” said Sansa. “I was telling her that she needs a boyfriend. A _nice_ boyfriend. She only seems to like those, what-d’ye-call-them — men who take advantage of her —“

“Bad boys,” said Margaery. She nodded knowingly.

Brienne, who was able to look down the full extent of her friend’s cleavage, cleared her throat. “I do not like _bad boys_.” Briefly and unwillingly, she considered that it might be true: mostly since Jaime had said the same thing.

Of course, he had said it as a compliment to himself.

“You dated Hyle Connigton after he stole your underwear —“

“His name was Hyle Hunt, and we never dated, and one man doesn’t make a pattern.”

“You slept with him,” said Sansa, looking knowing.

Brienne bristled. “I did not.” She had.

“So wait. Are you still a virgin?”

Margaery, bless her sluttish ways, was both a loyal friend and a capable liar. “She’s not a virgin. She’s been with tons of guys.”

“Not _tons_.”

“Tons,” said Margaery, who was perhaps a bit drunker than either of them realized. ”So she doesn’t need your help, Sansa Stark. Or anyone’s.”

Sansa looked frankly disbelieving. “Name one guy you’ve been with.”

“I don’t need to —“

Marge rolled her eyes. “She’s been banging Jaime Lannister on the daily for seven months now.”

“I haven’t,” said Brienne, blushing hot, and Sansa said

“No fucking way. Sorry, Bri-bri, but you and a _Lannister?_ It doesn’t add up. Maybe if it was that little one, he always seemed like he’d be freaky in bed—“

“I’m telling you, her and Jaime do the dirty all the time. Brie, give me your phone. I’ll call him.”

“No. Marge, no.”

“You know why she doesn’t want to call him? Because she can’t.”

Brienne grabbed her purse. “I’m not gonna call him. I’m not gonna call anyone. I’m gonna go.”

And amid the protests of her friends, she slipped out the door.

Outside was cold, and grey, and raining lightly. She stalked down the sidewalk and and was halfway down the block when a man caught her eye.

He was tall and blonde and dressed in black, like he was pretending to be a spy or a ninja. A bad boy. “I told you that I’d take the bus home. You said that you weren’t going to wait for me.”

Jaime looked unimpressed. “Yeah, and you said that you were going to be a while. How did I know that was a lie?”

“It wasn’t a lie,” Brienne snapped. “Gods, you’re a pain in the ass.”

He squinted at her, and it was far more charming than it should have been. “Brienne. Was someone in there _rude_ to you? Do I need to ... do something?”

She had a strong temptation to drag him back to the party and hump him on the coffee table; but if she offered that, no doubt Jaime would do it. “No. Nothing. Let’s just go home. I feel the sudden need to count my blessings.”

The first blessing was when he obeyed; the second blessing came later. Twice.


End file.
